~~ Chapter 1 ~~

Waves pounded. Evil laughter echoed in the darkness. Face down, Nadia Minsky gasped for air. Her lungs flamed, screaming for oxygen. She kicked. Her leg caught.

Breathless, she thrashed until she dragged air. Heart thudding, she fought through the darkness of the past.

She opened her eyes. Back to reality. Away from the nightmare. Exhausted, she curled into a fetal position. In the murky waters of half-sleep, the images convulsed through her mind. Tormented, forever haunting.

Early-morning light crawled and writhed along the wall casting eerie shadows. She flipped on the bedside lamp, shattering the darkness. The digital clock glowed 6:15. Her software design textbook still lay open on her desk next to the computer. Clean, folded laundry waited in the basket on top of her dresser.

Everything’s the same. I’ll be okay. Her frantic heartbeat called her a liar. She pulled her robe tight around her sweat-drenched body and sat on the edge of the bed.

The closet door stood open. Had she forgotten to shut it? Her head pulsed with fear as the shadows conspired with her imagination. Taking a deep breath, she rushed to the closet and slammed the door. She sagged against the wall realizing freedom would never come. The memories within her skull lasted forever. The filth clung to her… had to be washed away. She rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the shower.

Hot.

The steam rose. She stepped into the scalding heat and clawed at her scalp, then soaped and scrubbed her body until her flesh stung and glowed red. Another desperate attempt to strip away the grit and grime of the past.

Her fingers traced the constant reminders, the raised scars, tracks of never-ending pain running along her hip and stomach, proof of her body’s survival and her soul’s loss. A sob ballooned in her throat. She pressed a washcloth to her mouth muffling the primal cry. Long and drawn out the scream continued.

Worn out, she leaned against the shower wall and slid to the floor. Knees to chest, she rocked back and forth, weeping.

The water cooled. Shivering, she turned off the shower and stepped onto the cold tile floor. Eyes stinging, legs trembling, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, a frightened ghost of the person she used to be. Would anyone know all that she is, has been, all that fills her past...and still love her?

Students, like ants scurrying for crumbs of knowledge, crowded the campus. Nadia studied the concrete sidewalk on the way to the campus bookstore. Everyone scurried to class, allowing her to blend and become invisible, just another ant in the busy throng. At the bottom of the steps she stopped, rummaged through her backpack and found her checkbook to buy the notebook needed for the upcoming project. Hopefully, she could make her purchase and get to class on time.

Above, the doors opened and four jostling, laughing, young men descended toward her.

Her throat tightened. She clutched her belongings against her chest and stayed close to the rail.

“Hey, sexy.”

Heart hammering, she focused on the top step.

Another voice bantered. “Give it up. She’s way out of your league.”

She refused to acknowledge them. Her accent would draw attention. She squeezed past. Just a few more steps and she’d be safe inside the building.

A wolf-whistle sent a chill from the past racing through her veins. She stumbled. Still holding her checkbook, she grabbed for the rail. Her hand met air and she slammed onto the cold granite steps, falling on her bad side. Pain exploded down her leg.

She wouldn’t cry. No one would see her cry.

A strong hand gripped her arm. “Can I help?”

Shockwaves rippled from his touch. “No.” She wrenched away and pulled herself to her feet. Steadying herself, she brushed off her jeans.

“You hit hard. Sure you’re okay?” His deep voice tempted her to look his way.

But she didn’t. “I am fine.”

“I don’t remember seeing you last semester. I’m David Cohen.” He gathered her books and papers, including, much to her embarrassment, the Bible her friend Ruth had given her.

She clenched the rail instead of rubbing the aching throb in her hip. Concentrating, she formulated the words to hide her accent. “Please, may I have things?”

“Your things? Sure.” He hesitated. “I can carry this for you.” His voice soft, gentle, and kind.

“No, not is necessary.” Careful to avoid eye contact or touch, Nadia retrieved her belongings.

“I like your accent. Where you from?”

She groaned inwardly and berated herself for speaking. Attempting to block out her discomfort, she hurried to the top of the stairs. “I transfer.”

“I didn’t get your name.”

An intense longing for someone to know her name, to care, welled up within her, staggering her with the intensity. She stopped and turned toward him. Sandy-brown hair, athlete’s physique, and blue-green eyes met her gaze. His smile appeared honest and sincere. “Nadia.” She cringed as her name left her mouth. Why did she give him her name? He was a stranger.

“Nadia, nice to meet you. You sure you’re okay?”

“I … I must not be late for class.” She tried to move, but her feet remained glued to the stairs.

“Okay. I’ll see you around.” He bounded down the steps, stopped, and looked back at her.

His grin sent heat to her face. She couldn’t believe she watched him. Worse yet, he caught her watching. If only…No, she couldn’t take the chance.

Not now. Not ever.

Her life could never be the same.

She swallowed hard and pulled open the doors to make her purchase.

Fifteen minutes later, she sat in her usual spot in the classroom—in the corner, against the back wall, near the door. As the professor’s lecture droned on, she jotted down the main points. A strand of hair fell across her face, providing a much needed distraction from the boredom.

Why did teachers assign a chapter to read and then felt compelled to read it themselves?  With her mind on autopilot she gazed out the window wondering about the guy from the steps. In the two months since she arrived, he was the first one she’d given her name. Why him?

She pushed the hair behind her ear. Then again, why not? He was nice enough to help and very good looking. A few years ago, she would have leaped into his arms and offered her heart freely.

But that was then. Now she could only limp.

###

Spiral notebook in hand, he leaned against the trunk of a red maple tree. Twice he started toward the building entrance and stopped. She might leave class early—possible but not probable.

“Nadia,” he whispered, loving the sound. He was proud for discovering her name and the details of her schedule. James Bond couldn’t have done better.

Her classroom was the one closest to the front door. He checked his watch. Noon. The professor never dismissed class late. He counted eight seconds before the first student came from the building.

From behind the stately oak doors came twelve more. Nadia never came out first nor left last. His muscles tensed until he spotted her, beautiful as always, almost hidden at the rear of the group, as if she used them for camouflage.

He smiled. He’d watched her three times and still she hadn’t seen him. Most of the students went to the end of the quadrangle and onto campus. At the corner, Nadia turned right.

Predictable. He made a brief notation in his notebook. Her behavior patterns rarely varied. He closed his notes and walked toward his car.

Patience would be his advantage.